Bane Of Darkness
by desertxblume
Summary: Some Werewolves are chosen, but others are born into the legacy. Desiree is the sole survivor of an accident she cannot remember, leaving her previous foster parents slaughtered. She finds a haven among the Hunters who accept her as one of their own...but what happens when her birth legacy isn't quite what she had thought it was? Derek/OC Right after season 1...Reviews are welcome!
1. Chapter 1

"I'm sure you'll love it here..." It was a speech she had heard far too often for her taste. The glass of the car window was icy against her burning forehead as her heavy eyelids drifted closed, the familiar speech acting much like a sleeping aid. She recited it to herself nightly, laying in whatever bed she found herself in each night. But this time, this time it was different. The darkness of sleep wasn't her escape. As soon as the last of the hazy fall daylight left, it was as if she could smell the blood, filling the air around her-

"Goodness!" Ms. Gracie cried shrilly as Desiree jumped, fingers burying themselves deep in the ripped leather of the ancient, worn seats. The coughing and sputtering bug swerved wildly as Ms. Gracie leaped twice as high as the young girl had, managing a grand feat of four unnecessary swerves before finally finding her bearing back along the highway.

"Sorry," Desiree shrugged, fingernails still piercing the yellow innards of the aging seats, waiting until she was sure Ms. Gracie's high pitched hyperventilation had subsided. The middle-aged woman took a few more deep breaths before setting on her practiced smile back on her face.

"No worries, my dear Dizzy-"

"It's Desiree," she interjected, returning her gaze back towards the flying scenery passing alongside the smudged window.

"Come now, you're just a little shaken," the social worker was unfazed by the venomously sharp interruption of the young woman. "You used to _love_ the name Dizzy-"

"I was twelve!" The careless monotone that had plagued her since release from the hospital suddenly vanished at the mention of a name she would have preferred was buried in the ground next to her last home.

"Come now," she repeated, this time less certain. Desiree had never been one to yell, but that was quickly changing. The heavy silence hung between them for the next hour before Ms. Gracie dared to open her mouth again, this time in a tone Desiree hadn't heard too often. "Now I know that you're a young woman, reaching towards adulthood, and you may be experiencing changes-"

"That happened in Jr. High, Grace," the childish name of Ms. Gracie no longer seemed fitting when she no longer used the squeaky, peppy tone she had been trained to use. It seemed far too much like a molded mask, one Desiree was sure that Grace was beginning to think was her real face. There were these few moments where it appeared as if perhaps she wasn't a robot, molded by the state merely to transport trouble children here and there.

"These aren't changes inside of you that I'm talking about. I'm talking about the changes of life. Soon the state won't be funding your life. Soon you'll be eighteen and on your own, and there is little we can do-"

"I'd rather be on my own now," the honesty of the statement rang in her ears as she said it, realizing that yes, she would rather be on her own. Rather have one family rather than twelve, and most of all, rather remember what had happened that night.

"Do you know how lucky you are Dizzy?" She didn't wait for any objection to the childish name. "Here is a wealthy family, taking in a teen found at the murder site of her previous foster parents. Not only is the monetary status a miracle, but it is near impossible to find someone who would accept a teenager-"

"I know!" Desiree had heard the whispers in the police station that had surrounded her all night. She shook her head, as if it may clear the feeling of an icy cold cot beneath her. Grace pursed her lips bitterly, almost...sadly. Of course, Desiree knew how to push her buttons left and right, but she had never seen her...sad. She bit down on her lip, sure she could taste the coppery metallic taste of blood as she brought her gaze back to the roadside.

"Beacon Hills," Grace read the sign aloud as it flew past them, suddenly throwing the car into a suburban town, people lining the sidewalks left and right, laughing, talking, shopping. All so...innocent. Unknowing. Desiree clamped down harder on her lip, doubting any of them might even begin to understand the concept of death.

Desiree settled back into the chair, wishing it would swallow her whole, and never spit her out again. Yup. She was going to love it here...

* * *

"Come now," Ms. Gracie was back in an instant as she pulled down the make-up mirror, surrounded by lights which Desiree hadn't seen light since fifth grade. Ms. Gracie pinched at the wrinkles beginning to creep in along her eyes, about as dim as the lights around her make-up mirror. She closed it before offering Desiree the social worker smile that was the mask of Ms. Gracie. "Look at all these cars here at this nice place. They must be having a party for you," she said cheerfully. "Leave your bags in the back, I'll bring them in," she recited the familiar speech about best behavior which the Senior decided to ignore as she climbed out of the car.

"You must be Desiree!" The door opened before her fist could meet the polished wood of the large house. Desiree's eyes widened as she gazed at the woman, black gown falling to her knees and covered with intricate lace that screamed "money". Not a chestnut coloured hair was out of place on her head as she offered a smile as warm as the lighting inside. Desiree found herself taking a slight step back, watching her for whatever trick there was.  
There was always a trick. Whether it be an abusive hand or a dealing in the black market, there was something. But this woman was the picture of happy wealth.

"I'm Jessica," she said warmly, offering her hand out to Desiree. She bit her lip staring at the blood red color on her nails, not a single smear, run or chip as she always had issues with, back when she bothered with nail polish.

"Desiree," she said uselessly, although she clearly already knew her name. She took the hand before she found herself drawn into a hug, surrounded by the scent of honey. Honey and some flower she didn't recognize, but it made her dizzy.

"Come in, Desiree!" She said, ushering her in through a foyer that stretched the full three stories up. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, chiming slightly from the breeze as the door shut behind them. Desiree braved a look back to see that Ms. Gracie hadn't made it in, but wasn't about to object. There was something refreshing about the concept of no mask. In through french doors Desiree was lead, a few polished wood steps opened up into a large living room with warm golden walls and bright violet flowers sprouting from the vases on the mantel and vases. The black leather furniture was crawling with people, all dressed to the nines, a few to the tens as they sat around, drinking crimson wine from crystal glasses.

It was a scene from a movie, she could have sworn it was so. The laughter, the chink of glasses, the casual hum of conversation. But it all stopped as soon as they began down the steps, all eyes on her, and she suddenly wished that her jeans were a little less ripped and her shirt a little less stained.

"Desiree, I'd like you to meet everyone," she wrapped a thin arm around her shoulders with surprising strength. "I don't want to overwhelm you with the names, but it'll come to you eventually," she continued and I let my gaze wander over each of them. They were grouped together in groups that resembled each other, at least to the point that looked as if they were families. There were few kids or teens to be seen. The few there were had formed their own huddle around the fireplace, which was lined by black marbled tiles. Still, no one spoke, as if they were waiting for her...

"Hi," she managed lamely, and immediately the chatter began again, a few laughing, several others making comments on how adorable she was. She felt like an animal in a cage at a zoo, all eyes focused upon her. Studying her. Subjecting her to their opinions. Of course, it was nothing new for a girl in the program. One man of considerable height stood, stepping over his comrades as he approached, a grin on his cleanly shaven face.

"Hello, Desiree," he said, offering his hand. This time she wasted no time in shaking his hand, which he firmly clasped, shaking it as if she were a man. "Firm handshake you have," he mused, eyes glinting at some private joke of his. She hadn't heard that before, having shaken few people's hands. Often she was keeling away from hands coming at her.

"This is my husband, Thomas. Our son should be in the kitchen. I wish there was some easier way to introduce you, but the best I can say is make yourself at home," she clasped Desiree's face in her hands. "I'll go see to your bags, dear," she said before she and Thomas began a perfect walk through the doors, whispering. She stared after them, wondering what they might be saying. If it was about her. Did they like her?

Should she care?

She shook her head, watching as a tall girl began to the right to where she assumed was the kitchen. Sure enough, eyes were like magnets to her, those closer to her whispering rather than speaking. She took a deep breath, putting on a smile like Ms. Gracie so often did before following the girl.

"What are you two doing in here?" The girl she had followed tossed herself up onto the granite island in the middle of the crimson and gold kitchen. Desiree hovered behind the threshold as a tall lanky boy looked up from the table where he sat with a girl, chin in her hand and boredom etched into her face. Unlike the rest, she looked as if she might have just come from school or a day at the mall, and she looked horribly out of place.

"Allison's sitting in here and sulking-'

"So let her sulk. Not like she wants to be here," the girl grabbed an apple, biting into it and jumping off of the counter. She grabbed the lanky boy by the tie, dragging him back towards where Desiree stood. She paused, nodding to Desiree. "Hey shorty, nice to meet you," she said before continuing dragging who I assumed was Jessica's son back towards the living room.

"Hi!" He called back over his shoulder before following her to the living room. Desiree looked to the bored girl back towards the living room filled with people and decided she'd prefer neither, but that didn't appear to be an option.

"So, Allison," she flopped down carelessly at the table across from the wavy haired girl. She looked up, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"So you're the new girl?" She asked, sounding slightly surprised. Desiree's lips twitched, unsure whether to smirk or frown.

"Don't really fit in, do I?" She leaned back, reaching into the candy dish on the center of the table and popping the chocolates into her mouth.

"Not really," Allison gave a half-hearted laugh, brushing a black curl out of her face. "Can't say it's all that fun to be a part of," she looked as if there was something intriguing about her phone, the reflection reflecting off of the glass of the candy dish. There was nothing. Desiree brought her gaze up from the reflection to the odd girl.

"So is this a country club or a book club or..."

"Ha, looks like it, doesn't it?" She grinned, letting out a genuine laugh at her ignorance. Desiree was once again whether to laugh or frown at the reaction. "I've heard they'll clue you in soon enough. You've got an interesting story," she drew a knee up to her chest, wrapping her arms around it, looking too casual and careless for the outrageously formal kitchen she found herself in. She still couldn't believe someone would use such a kitchen. You could only cook so much food.

"What story have you heard?" She asked cautiously, reaching for more candy.

"Heard something-" she stopped, setting her phone down. "Sorry, someone, killed your last parents, and you were the only survivor," she paused, looking at Desiree for a second, as if to gauge the reaction. "They say that situations like that make a person hard...stronger, is the word they use," she said, staring at the table now.

"Hard..." Desiree thought back to the flashing lights of the ambulance, the pulsing in her head.

"That's why they picked you," she said, as if speaking to herself.

"Picked me?" Desiree asked, but a knock brought both of their head sot a sudden swivel towards the door.

"The Argents are leaving, Allison," Jessica appeared in the doorway. Allison nodded, standing up and stuffing her phone into her jean pockets.

"Nice meeting you," the smile was a fake one, one looking way too much like the one that Ms. Gracie had. The one masking pity.

"You too," Desiree lied.


	2. Chapter 2

Desiree could barely remember the rest of the night, the small talk and polite compliments about her torn jeans and "grunge" look. She wasn't even entirely sure what grunge was, but she merely nodded with a smile and equally fake yet polite thanks. Names were a mumbled, typical mess inside her head, bumping into each other. Not that she thought it would matter. She knew the key names. Thomas, Jessica, and Roger. How…average. She could hardly believe how average this marvelous house seemed. A loving couple who remained side by side with the honor roll student on the lacrosse team.

It was like a story book.

Desiree sat in her bedroom, or at least, what she thought was a bedroom. There was a bed, and it was in a room, but the room consisted of a wall of windows that overlooked a small pond, the half-moon shimmering like crystals on the black, placid surface of the water. The bed threatened to swallow her whole as she sat down on the end, sinking into the plush comforters as she peeled off her old tennis shoes. She slid them underneath the bed, flopping back, staring at the midnight blue canopy above her, eyes drifting closed before a loud knock made her jump.

"Desiree, may I come in?" Jessica asked through the door. Desiree looked around the enormous room, surprised it would be up to her. She had shared a room with six others before, and it was less than half the size of this room.

"Uh…yeah?" She hadn't intended for it to echo the questioning tone in her head, but it did. Jessica came in, looking just as stunning in faded jeans and a black t-shirt as she sat across from Desiree.

"I hope that wasn't too stressful for you," her cool hand clasped Desiree's, who jumped at the sudden contact.

"Uh...not at all," she shook her head, dark curls bouncing to form an even more sticky web of tangles that was her hair.

"Good, good!" A bright grin split across her face. "You are a strong girl," she patted Desiree's knee who jumped again. Strong. Just as that Allison girl had said. She nodded. "Very strong," she smiled. "But, I do suppose the true test of strength will be tomorrow…I hear high schoolers are about as blood thirsty as they get now," she mused, although it didn't seem to be as funny as she had hoped it would be.

"Tomorrow?" Desiree asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Of course! There is no better way to adjust to life than to jump right in. You'll find that philosophy is rather prominent in the family," she reached up, taking a curl from her forehead and studying it. Desiree's eyes widened slightly, unsure what the intention had been, before another bright, honey-like smile burst across her face. "You have the most beautiful hair…I don't imagine many have been able to tame it," she stroked the hair back into place, patting down the obscene frizz surrounding Desiree's unkempt head.

"Not really. I didn't have many homes where I had…" She thought about what word wouldn't appear whining or pathetic in the eyes of her new foster mom. A mom she might actually not mind having to look at. Of course, it was far too early to make up her mind on whether or not she would bother opening up. "…time," she decided on a word at last. "…To worry about hair, that is," she added.

"Ah, well, I've tackled much worse before, so why don't you jump into the shower before bed?" She asked cheerfully. Desiree hesitated, unsure if she should take the offer. Why not? She nodded at last, ever so slightly, still unsure why the offer of a shower seemed so friendly. Sliding off the bed she made her way towards the door. "Oh, and Desiree," Desiree spun around, perhaps a little too quickly, to face Jessica. "Grace did mention something about your medication…it sounds rather important. What is it for?" She asked, and Desiree swore she saw a flicker of impress in her eyes as she had spun.

"I'm not really sure. I never really understood," Desiree shrugged, eyes falling to the soft black carpet beneath her feet. "I've had it since I was put in the system. All I know is I blackout when I don't take it-" Her words failed her as she found herself incapable of a voice.

"Did you take it that night of the slaughter?" She asked softly, the word slaughter sounding out of place in her honey-smooth voice. Desiree couldn't find her voice past the burning lump in her throat, so she merely shook her head. "Go shower, honey," she said and Desiree winced at the name. Honey.

* * *

Desiree stepped out of the shower, unsure how to even begin to look at the tangled mess that was her hair, wetted down and matted. Of course, if this was something Jessica wanted to do, she wasn't going to deny that, not with the warm roof she found over her head. She rubbed at the misty mirror, frowning at the sharp, deep gouges running along the side of her neck. Something that had yet to fade from that night, from whatever animal that had spared her while it had butchered her parents.

Shaking her head she began down the stairs, hairbrush in hand as she followed the scent of honey and that odd flower that seemed to appear in every vase and crevice of the house. She itched at her neck as she thought of the odd smelling flowers, something about it making her nose burn.

"There you are!" Jesicca said from where she stood over a mixing bowl. She offered the batter covered spoon to Desiree as she took the brush. "Now, sit back and relax. I've tamed fur worse than this," she said and Desiree's eyes closed, falling into the first bloodless sleep she'd had since that night.

* * *

"To the wolves I throw you," Roger announced as the car came to a stop. The sleek, black, sports car. Desiree had hardly been able to pay attention to the town or the rich neighborhood or any of those around her, too busy running her fingers over the sleek leather. The cool air blowing gently. The techno music thrumming out of the speakers.

"What?" Her head swiveled around. She hadn't heard any of his rambles about high school culture and surviving the school. She had seen enough in her days to know the worst.

"I said, here's where I throw you to the wolves…" He laughed, although the laughter was short lived. "Literally," he scoffed.

"I doubt it can be that bad," Desiree rolled her eyes, and Roger let out a loud, hearty laugh, one that made him throw his entire head back as he did so.

"Right. Well, I guess here is where I'm supposed to give you some brotherly advice or something of the like, but all I can say is think carefully about who you trust," he didn't look up at her until the last word, too busy playing with his radio, although he decided upon the same station in the end.

"I see…" She said. "I take it you mean people like you?" She asked casually, studying her nails although there was nothing to study.

"You'll find us a lot less blood thirsty than the rest of the school, little sister," he said as the doors clicked as they unlocked. "So, I repeat, to the wolves I throw you," he grinned a grin that looked just like his mother's, one that belonged in those perfect family photos you got when you bought the frame.

"Right," she nodded again, shutting the door behind her. And just like that, everyone stopped, just as they had at the house, all eyes on her. Her eyes flickered around quickly, taking in each action of each person before she found herself happy with the lack of threat. Beginning up the steps, they all watched as the new girl entered the school. Following the designated path through the school she had memorized from a map, she'd just managed to open her locker before it was shut again.

"Hey," Alison appeared, hand on the locker. Desiree looked at her, wondering what other cryptic messages she may convey to further confuse her. "How much did they tell you?" She seemed slightly breathless, as if she had been running through the school.

"Tell me about what?" She pressed, leaning against the icy metal of the green lockers. Alison raised an eyebrow.

"They haven't said anything yet?" She asked, checking over her shoulder for something. Desiree followed her gaze momentarily, spotting a boy who was staring intently at the stair railing, as if trying not to appear as if he was listening. He would have been rather attractive, if his jaw hadn't have been so crooked, looking like it had taken a few too many blows. Not that Desiree was one to talk. She subconsciously moved her thick curls to block the scratches, although they were barely visible to begin with.

"No, they said they were throwing me to the wolves and to watch who I trust…but something tells me you would have a very different opinion on who that would be," Desiree went to open her locker once more, cramming the rotting textbooks carelessly into the small space. Alison's gaze swept the hallway once more before she lowered her voice.

"It's up to you who you trust, but I would suggest you think long and hard before you pick any sides," she said, suddenly agitated with the bored, uninterested tone Desiree had perfected, one that she often had confused with her actual voice.

"What makes you so wise about this?" Desiree scoffed at last, half-amused that she had sparked a reaction in the girl.

"I was the new girl this year, and if I had known what I was getting myself into, there wouldn't be half the heartache there is now," her voice was serious and full of authority, something that made Desiree's jaw lock.

"If you're referencing your boyfriend over there, I don't bother with Romeo and Juliet tragedies, but thanks for the warning," she snapped with a little too much emotion. Alison raised her eyebrows, the inner clockwork in her mind obviously ticking behind her eyes as she studied Desiree, reading into her reactions as much as she was reading into Alison. The similar minds did not click. Not in the slightest.

"You might want to get that rash checked out," she said at last, whipping out a pocket mirror. Desiree peered into it to find the other side of her neck swollen until it looked like it might explode. "What's up with that?" She asked, sounding half interested as she pocketed the mirror before Desiree could mask the embarrassing welt.

"I think I'm allergic to those flowers or something," she scratched at it, still incapable of feeling it, the skin numb beneath her fingers.

"The Aconitum?" Alison asked, sounding somewhat interested. Desiree's eyes flickered back to the boy who was suddenly not so good at masking his interest in their conversation.

"Is that what it's called?" She asked, shrugging it off. "Yeah, I guess so. But they seem to like it, so I'm not complaining," she slammed the locker, perhaps a bit too forcefully, but it signified how finished she was with this conversation, ready to escape the scrutiny.

"I wouldn't, if I was you," the boy shocked Desiree, who had failed to see him approach as he grasped Alison's hand. "That's something to keep to yourself," he warned darkly before walking away, Alison in stride. Desiree stared after them, acting as if they knew something about her she didn't know. Of course, there was a lot she didn't know. Who really knew themselves that well, anyways?


	3. Chapter 3

"So how was your first day, little sister?" Roger smirked as Desiree opened the car door, slamming herself down in the seat. She was beyond the idea of being polite with the new family. "Supreme, I take it," he laughed lamely at his own joke at her expense as she shut the door forcefully behind her. "Whoa, let's watch the car," he looked genuinely concerned as the slam resounded in the small space. He ran a gentle finger across the wheel, as if stroking an infant and Desiree rolled her eyes in disgust, not bothering with a seatbelt.

"This whole watch who you trust thing made life a little too complicated," she slid down in her seat, wishing she could vanish from existence all together. She had endured school shoot ups, robbers, tornadoes and mean bitches, but through it all, she had been unnoticed. Here, they all knew her. The new foster kid, the one with the O'Connel family. Not one person who had spoken to her had something to say rather than who she ought to eat lunch with. Who she should sit by. Who she should trust.

"You're just a local celebrity among us," he nudged her as he began out of the parking lot, waving to almost every passerby who spotted him. Several cars honked at the sight of his pristine sports car, and his grin only widened. "Embrace it, little sister. It's one of those few benefits we get with what we do," he slammed his palm down on the horn in response to a girl in a convertible winking at him, the same who had dragged him down the hallway by his tie.

"Alison doesn't seem to like whatever it is 'we' do," the emphasis on the word we brought his gaze back to her as she rested her elbow on the window sill, staring out the window, although she saw nothing of the town passing her by.

"You can say that again," he shook his head, slipping a hand through his straw blonde hair, which fell smoothly back into place, not a hair gone astray.

"So if it's so great, what's her deal?" Desiree asked, trying not to sound as interested as she really was becoming.

"She has a Romeo and Juliet tragedy coming straight for her, and she knows it," he said offhandedly, as if searching for some turn, although he had lived in this town since he was born.

"Can you drop me off at this address? I have to refill my medication," she handed the note from her last doctor to him. They pulled up at a red light and he looked down at the note and up to her.

"This is a vet," he smirked, seeming more amused than confused about the mix up.

"Whatever," she snatched the note back defensively. Take me there, I'll sort it out later," she snapped, stuffing it back in her new jeans pockets, although they didn't appear new. Apparently the "grunge" look that they had been talking about was really a look. People paid for ripped jeans that looked suspiciously like the holes she had made falling in back alleys as she ran from the police. But she wasn't complaining. The jeans, along with several other bags of new clothes had lined her bedroom wall this morning, and she wasn't about to start off by rejecting the generous gift.

"But the hospital is like, miles away," he insisted as he pulled up in front of a small vet's clinic with only two cars waiting in the parking lot, which she assumed belonged to whoever ran the tiny place.

"Oh, Heaven forbid, walking," she cried dramatically before jumping out of the car.

"Hey Desiree," he caught her wrist, and she bent over backwards to see him through the open window. "We've got some family stuff. It's sort of a nightly thing, and dad thinks you ought to start tonight," the conflict in his voice was more than evident.

"I take it this is what Alison has issues with," she asked, still hanging backwards.

"Are you always this weird?" He asked as if he was annoyed, but it was hard for him to suppress a smile of amusement at her mannerisms.

"Are you always this boring?" She shot back. He shrugged.

"Good looks make up for it," he released her wrist to run his hand through his hair in that super model way that seemed too perfect to be real, just as his parents. Once again, his hair remained undisturbed as the wheels screeched as he sped away. She straightened up, running a hand over her own hair which still, strangely enough, resembled hair rather than the frizz ball she had worn most of her life.

The vet clinic was…ordinary. She wasn't sure what she had expected after the chiming of the entrance bell had died, but it was ordinary. Just as she would have pictured with a simple and basic color scheme, a desk, and chairs. Yet the hairs on her arms leapt to attention, goosebumps following short after. She rubbed at her arm, as if it would tame the senses that were screaming to turn around. Leave.

"Hello?" She called, and a symphony of barking and howls greeted her, causing her to jump once again, perhaps higher than she would have normally. She spun around, ready to return later, or pay Roger to come run the errand- "Jesus!" She exclaimed as she came face to face with the boy she had seen in the hallway, appearing much larger than he had before.

"Hey," he said cautiously, eyes scanning over her in the way she had him, as if judging whether she was pray or predator. Was that what she looked like when she did that? No, she couldn't be so animalistic in how she surveyed people. Then again, was there anyway not to appear like an animal when most people were?

"Uh…hi," she said lamely, voice threatening to fail her.

"Normally people bring animals to the animal clinic," he laughed earnestly, but still she bristled at the joke.

"Where's…" She paused, reading the scribbled name on the envelope. "Dr. Deaton?" She asked, holding up the sealed envelope.

"He should be in the back with the animals…What is that?" He set down the convenience store bags, reaching for the letter. She recoiled, unsure what was written within it. Her doctor had told her it was merely the recipe for her medication, but still, she wasn't sure she wanted this tragedy bound Romeo to know all about her. The last thing she needed was pity from a Romeo.

"Right, I'll wait here then," she said firmly, flopping down on the chair and tossing one leg over the other.

"Uh…right," he shook his head as if deciding against protesting. "I'll go get him," he nodded. She raised an eyebrow, musing briefly how many voices he heard in his head as he vanished into the back room, leaving her alone.

There, once again, the creeping sensation of a finger of panic traced up her spine, causing a tangible shudder to run through her body. Her fingers ran instinctively up to the cuts on her neck, a nervous tick she had developed the instant the bandages had been removed. Her fingers fit into the large, claw-like grooves, touching what should have been flesh which was now missing.

"Well then, I hear you have a letter for me?" A black man came out, wiping his hands on his pants. Unlike most black men that Desiree was familiar with, who were often wielding a gun or acting as blood thirsty lawyers in court, he radiated a fatherly feel with a warm face, making him seem younger than he must have been with his clean shaven head. She nodded, standing up to retrieve the letter.

"Dr. Ferris at St. Michaels over in Redwood City said you'd understand it," she shrugged, stuffing her fingers in the back jean pockets to keep from playing with her neck. He read, and with each moment, she could see his eyes grow larger. She itched anxiously at the rash on her neck before he finally looked up at her.

"Dr. Ferris," he stroked the small patch of black hair on his chin as he spoke thoughtfully. "One of my closer colleagues," he nodded as he put away the letter in his pocket. "It also mentions a severe allergy to Acontium…" His eyes landed on her neck. "Would that be what I'm seeing here?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'd assume so. Acontium is a purple flower…right?" She asked as he lead her back towards where a vet would work with the animals on a cold metal table, one that resembled what doctor's laid their patients on. The two contraptions were almost identical.

"Correct," he nodded, rummaging through his cabinets. "Aconitum, also known as Wolfsbane, is a flower often used in small increments for healing certain illnesses, but is more often than not known as a poison…but only when ingested," he added the last part as she sucked in a breath. He turned around, flicking a shot filled with a yellow liquid she did not recognize. "In your case, I would suggest minimal interaction with the herb. You may experience nausea and increased blood pressure, and in extreme cases some vomiting, but if you take your medication and keep away from the Wolfsbane, you should do fairly well," he said as he swabbed at the skin of her arm with a moist pad.

"You're a vet," she said, pulling away. He laughed as he pulled on rubber gloves as routinely as if he were a doctor.

"Yes, I am, most of the time," he grinned that friendly grin and she reluctantly offered her arm. "This will clear the rash right up," he promised as the needle pierced her skin. She yelped slightly and suddenly the symphony of dogs began their howling harmony in response. "Don't mind them, Scott will take care of it" he said, throwing the gloves away and looking over a clipboard.

"Scott?" She asked, finally able to put a name to a crooked-jawed face. She nodded, filing it away. Maybe she'd have to bother with names this time after all.

"As for your medicine," the vet's voice brought her attention away from the strangely patterned howls of the dogs as he studied the orange container. "It'll take a few days, a week tops, but I should have it by the next full moon," he said as he handed the container back to her.

"What does the moon have to do with it?" She asked, although she didn't quite care. As long as she had her medicine, she'd be fine.

"It says in your records that your condition has a habit of acting up around the time of the full moon," he leaned back on the counter as she jumped up onto the metal table, swinging her legs back and forth, much like a child. "The moon, luna, is often a conduit for many conditions, which helped invent the word 'lunatic'," he said knowingly, speaking as if he was talking about the weather. She nodded along, somehow comforted she wasn't the only crazy one who couldn't sleep the whole night long when the moon was full.

"Well, I like to think I'm a little better at functioning in society than most lunatics," she mused, once again her hand creeping up to the deep crevices slashed into her neck.

"I'd agree, but you can never judge a book by its cover," his gaze followed her hand. "I take it that is from the incident Dr. Ferris described?" He asked as casually as if he was asking for the salt. She nodded, a little relieved he didn't panic as most did when they saw the gruesome sight that was the damage of that night. "That was too a full moon, am I right?" He asked, studying a lunar calendar that hung next to an old fashioned clock that ticked loudly with each passing second. She nodded again. "I suppose it must have been that full moon that interfered with your taking your medicine…" he said thoughtfully, eyes focused intently on her as she shifted her weight.

"I have to go. Family stuff," she said quickly, ready to bolt. He nodded with no objections. Although his pointing out her failure to take her medication, it had not been accusatory. Simply analytical. She wasn't sure which was worse, being subject to blame, or subject to scrutiny. The door had barely closed behind her, the goosebumps returning in full force as she heard Scott asking the doctor something. She couldn't hear it, but she did hear the last words.

"Watch her Scott"


	4. Chapter 4

Winter couldn't truly be winter, not in California. Desiree had no true memory of snow. She'd seen those hazy puppet and claymation dancing in something white and fluffy. Fall didn't bring much satisfaction either, but it was closer to what she read in books. At least she had that small satisfaction of the crunchy, bright leaves lining her path home. Crunch. Crunch. She glanced around, as if to make sure nobody was there to see her childish stomping, and continued.

"Hey!" A voice made her spin around, wondering if she ought to run. She hadn't been doing anything wrong, had she? She'd seen neighborhoods where just walking along the street was suspicious enough. Especially when you were a foster kid. But she saw no police car, no social worker, only a dented jeep she had seen in the parking lot of the vets. "Hey," the Scott one stuck his head out the window of the passenger seat.

"Hi," she said shoving her hands in her back pockets as she continued walking, the worn down jeep chugging along beside her.

"Need a ride?" He asked, putting a grin on his face.

"Come on, it's getting dark," he insisted. She stopped, turning to face him.

"What's so bad about the dark?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"The dark can be scary. Like, _really_ scary," the driver said, peering around Scott.

"So sleep with a night light," she shot back, arms folding tighter around herself. "I can make it back before dark if I take a shortcut through the forest-"

"If you think the dark is scary, the forest is worse. That's where the scary things in the dark hide," the odd one insisted.

"There can't be much in there, and you scare me more than whatever goes bump in the night," she began walking, but the jeep coughed slightly and continued chugging along with her.

"He scares me too, but he doesn't bite," Scott insisted. She rolled her eyes, although she had nothing to say to that. Bite. She thought of the bite marks that were etched into her body, something that looked like it belonged to a wolf, if wolves existed in California. Wild dogs, was the latest speculation about that night. Her hand rubbed along her right hip subconsciously as she imagined what the cuts looked like. Deep. Vicious. With the intent to harm, but not to kill. She had seen the ones on her parents when she had woken up. Those were meant to kill.

"What do you get out of this?" She asked, suddenly returning to the world that was around her now, rather than the blood filled night she was slipping back into.

"Just showing the new girl some kindness," Scott said with a smile that looked far too much like the one Ms. Gracie used. Pity. She grit her teeth before taking a deep breath, unclenching her jaw.

"Right. Kindness," she nodded. She was going to be late if she didn't make it home soon, and if she was invited to do something as a _family_, she wasn't about to abuse that. Scott opened the door and she climbed in, ignoring their cries of pain as she pushed their heads back to propel herself into the back seat. Taking a seat she leaned forward. "Next door to Alison," she said.

"Not even a thank-you?" The odd one rolled his eyes but still started the car.

"Isn't that the O'Connell place?" Scott asked, thick eyebrows dipping in deep thought.

"Yeah. Why?" She asked.

"They're just…good friends with the Argents," he shook his head.

"Good friends," the odd one snorted, sounding a lot like the coughing sound the jeep made.

"She doesn't seem too thrilled by it," she said casually, leaning back in the cramped back seat. At least there was a back seat.

"So why the need to get home so quickly?" Scott asked, as if that was somehow not an obvious subject change. She shrugged.

"Who said there was a need?"

"You seem tense," was all he said.

"Well aren't your senses super," she rolled her eyes once again, leaning forward. "Yes, I have a curfew. And the way your friend keeps twitching his leg makes me a little tense. I read about a serial killer with that tick," she reached over, smacking the twitching leg that she was finding hard not to stare at. Of course, she didn't think the odd one could be a serial killer, but something about how anxious he was made her uneasy, her stomach knotting. Was _she_ making him anxious?

"I don't think Stiles can manage to harm a butterfly. I think you're safe," Scott laughed in good nature, despite the sharp retorts she was spitting left and right. She bit down on her lip, deciding not talking would be the best way to spend the rest of the ride. "About Dr. Deaton," of course he would still want to talk. "I wouldn't worry too much about the whole vet part of it. He specializes in conditions like ours-"

"Ours?" She asked, perhaps the first words she had managed to say to him that weren't drenched in venom.

"Yeah," he nodded, looking up at her through the rearview mirror. Rather than taking pride in it, he offered her a sincere smile. Not one of those pity filled ones everyone seemed to have when it came to the foster girl. "You were born with it, right?" He asked. She nodded, that lump burning in her throat. "Well, your case is a rare one. I haven't seen medication for it before," he said, and all too soon, they were in front of the house, the long driveway leading up to the warm lights glowing out of the windows.

"So…you just live with the black outs?" She asked, hand on the door handle.

"I learned how to get past them," he said, staring into her eyes, as if trying to convey some other message. She bit down on her lip.

"Sounds scary," for the first time since that night, she swore she could feel the claw marks on her neck sting.

* * *

"Hello?" No one appeared to be in the foyer as she entered. Of course, with as many rooms as there were, she wasn't expecting people in the foyer. Her first instinct was to head towards the kitchen, wondering if Jessica was there. "Hello?" She repeated. There had been at least five cars waiting in the winding driveway, those she recognized from last night. "Hell-" She coughed as an arm snaked around her waist, a sweet, stinging scent filling her nose before her world fell to black, a gentle _Shhh_ echoing in her mind.

* * *

Darkness. Darkness. That was all she saw. Darkness. Were her eyes opened or closed? Open. Definitely open, she could feel them blinking. A rough cloth was between her teeth. Muscles aching signaled that her arms had been bound behind her back in a way that was not normal for arms to bend. Closing her eyes, she took three deep breaths. One. Two. Three. She would not panic.

"I see you're awake," a familiar voice. Thomas? She opened her eyes, although it did no good. She saw nothing. But she could hear. When one sense was taken away, the others were heightened. She tilted her head, following the footsteps behind her, moving towards the left. The far left, and then it stopped. "And surprisingly…calm," he sounded…impressed. Despite the situation, all she could feel was that small swelling of pride in her chest.

Suddenly light flooded across the floor, pale and milky, the light of the moon. She looked to the window, Thomas silhouetted against it along with another man who she had not heard. Not even his breathing. The moon stood high up above the woods, the thin fingers of light illuminating the wooden room she was in. Singed. Burnt. Everything was broken. Destroyed. Even the chair she found herself in had the stains of smoke and ash on it.

"I realize this may be odd to you, but this is how it begins for all of those in our family. In our clan, he moved away from the window, the moon light slanting across his face as he knelt in front of her. She watched him, refusing to move a muscle until she was sure what was happening. He pulled the cloth from her mouth.

"This is the family stuff Roger was talking about?" She asked coolly, and he only grinned, amused at the statement.

"Yes. I suppose it is," he chuckled in that charismatic way the entire family had. She nodded, waiting for further explanation. Not that she hadn't been in families that left their children bound in dark places before. Only he seemed a lot more friendlier about it. "Our clan, those who you met last night, are followers of the time old philosophy that with knowledge comes responsibility. Knowledge, being something we have perhaps too much of. I'm sure you know that those were no wild dogs that left your parents dead, Desiree," he was still kneeling in front of her, hands resting on her knees. There was a genuine flicker of…concern in his eyes. She nodded. "What do you remember from that night," his grip tightened on her knees.

"I remember blood. And screaming. And pain…It was as dark as when you close your eyes," she said, gaze dropping to his hands on her knees. The odd, comforting touch. "Screaming…barking…howling," she looked back up to him and he nodded.

"But wolves aren't in California. That's what they told you, wasn't it?" He jumped up to his feet, eyes blazing with some newly fed fire. She nodded, unsure as if it was a good thing or something to be terrified of as he began something like predatory circling around her.

"It was wolves," her whisper was strained, rough, evident of the struggle to speak.

"You're right," the man at the window finally spoke. He too, stepped into the light, eyes glinting with something. Some hidden thoughts she couldn't read. She recognized him. From the party last night. And the eyes…Alison's eyes. "Werewolves," he said. Desiree waited for a reaction, yet somehow, she had known. All those things that had haunted her nightmares, the things that went bump in the night, they were real. But somehow, she had indeed known.

"Why my family?" She asked quietly, managing to look between the leader and Thomas.

"That we don't know. But we do know that with the knowledge of what exists in our world, be it Werewolves or whatever else walks in the shadows, it's our job to eliminate the threats," Thomas continued.

"So what does this have to do with the rope and chloroform?" She shifted her weight, the ropes beginning to saw into her flesh.

"This is your first test," Mr. Argent spoke. "Our sons are trained to be soldiers, our daughters their leaders. This is the first coming of age ritual, a rite of passage I suppose you could say," he moved behind her and she felt the cold shard of glass in her hand. "Your father will time you," he said, grasping my shoulder and beginning his way out. She looked up at Thomas.

"I was picked for this, not born into it," she said and he nodded. "Why?" She asked faintly.

"Us foster kids, we're the strongest of them all," he knelt in front of her again. "The system hasn't been kind to you…and the tragedies in your life have prepared you for this. You're destined for greatness, Desiree," he said, chucking her under the chin. Despite everything, she smiled. "Good luck, honey," he said as he stood, brandishing a phone. He hit the start button on a timer and, he too, left.

Suddenly it wasn't so dark. She looked up at the moon, the soft, pale light that illuminated the darkness around her. She bit her lip in determination before she began sawing at the ropes.

So this was who she was.


	5. Chapter 5

"Two hours, twenty-six minutes and forty-two seconds," Thomas announced as Desiree leapt over the worn down stairs of the porch, not entirely sure she trusted the house that looked like it may collapse at any moment. She glanced back up at it, patched, burnt, filled with holes and screaming "haunted house". She shook her head, jogging back towards Thomas, wincing as he opened up his arms, but before she could flinch, he embraced her. "That's a new record," he said, arms around her. Suddenly she found her arms impossibly heavy to lift, as if she wanted to return the hug…but couldn't.

"What?" A voice from within the car drew her attention towards the figures she hadn't seen waiting in the back. She stepped back, eyes locking with those of Alison. Only she didn't look jealous as Desiree would have believed. She didn't even look angry. She was…worried. Her eyebrows furrowed as she studied Desiree as if she were some new species of creature she wasn't sure whether or not she should be hunting or petting. Whichever it was, Desiree was sure she could handle it.

"Well then," Mr. Argent stepped out from the car, looking at Desiree with a faint spark in his eyes. "That is rather impressive. Not only the general conduct but also the efficiency of performance was outstanding," he folded his arms, leaning back against the car as she felt Thomas' arm around her. "I have to say, when O'Connell said we were choosing our newest addition, I was skeptical," his eyes remained trained on Desiree, as if the test wasn't over yet. "You were right, Thomas," he said, staring into her eyes.

"I had no doubts, Argent," Thomas laughed, rubbing Desiree's shoulder.

"Right then. Since she has no car, I suppose this next part of the task is a little more complicated," he straightened up, eyes skimming the dark forest around them.

"What next part?" Desiree had known it couldn't be over yet. That was too simple. She'd been punished in worse ways than that.

"Normally you just make your way home…But I suppose it becomes a task within itself without a car," Thomas frowned slightly, scratching his thin stubble, almost invisible on his light skin.

"Can't we just give her a ride?" Alison stuck her head out the window, the worry now evident in her voice.

"I think I can handle walking home," Desiree said with a smile. Anything that didn't mean sitting next to Alison, being studied like a book.

"Are you sure?" Mr. Argent looked back around, as if at any moment an enormous wolf would leap down from the branches.

"Werewolves only turn on full moons, right?" Desiree asked, wondering if her years of burying herself in fantasy worlds of mythology and mythical beings had any meaning now, now that it was real. Not that part of it hadn't always been real to her. It had been her escape from the system, the abusive and negligent homes, the lack of a reason to live. But that was over now. She could see it was when she looked up at Thomas.

"Many have mastered a control over their transformative capabilities that allows them to morph to certain extents at almost any given times-"

"Come now, Argent," Thomas interrupted him with a good-natured laugh. "I'll walk with her, get in some shooting practice on the way home. We have a truce, and with the full moon coming up, the new betas are going to be hiding with their tails between their legs," Thomas insisted, but still Mr. Argent watched Desiree.

"You sure, O'Connell?" He asked, finally peeling his studying eyes off of her face to his comrade.

"Yes," Thomas nodded firmly. Without another word Argent climbed into the car, driving away, the shadows of the night swallowing the silent car.

"Shooting practice?" Desiree asked, but her question was already answered when he brandished a sparkling, polished gun from his boot, placing it in her hands. She stared at it. "Silver bullets, right?" She asked as she studied the gun, surprisingly heavier than she remembered. The only other time she had wielded a gun, adrenaline had been pumping through her at a ridiculous rate, which probably meant she could have lifted a truck. The metal was cool in her hot palms, molded well to her fingers as she held it up as if she were to shoot it.

"Have you ever shot a gun before, Desiree?" He asked, tone serious once again as he watched her.

"Once," she nodded, aiming for a thick branch, left eye sliding closed. He nodded, although he asked no questions about it. He understood.

"It seems like you have a good handle already. Straighten your left arm a bit," he spoke as he shifted her arm. "Your balance is great. When it sparks it'll be a shock, so don't tense up too much-"

"You want me to shoot now?" She asked, looking up at him.

"No. I want you to be prepared to, however," he patted her shoulder. "Consider it a gift. I'd keep it on me if I were you…you've made quite a splash around town," his eyes slid around the forest, just as Argent had done, as if ensuring no one was listening. She followed his gaze, but she saw nothing but the iridescent shadows of the forest at night. She nodded, letting it hang in her hand at her side, the cool metal in her hand.

"Thanks," she said with an earnest smile which infectiously doubled on his face.

"By the way," he began walking and she wasted no time in matching his stride. "A Dr. Deaton called about your medication, saying to stop by in the morning," he glanced at her. "What kind of medication do you take?" His casual air reappeared as he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, watching the moonlit ground as they walked over the dead leaves, crunching crisply beneath their feet.

"Just something for my blackouts," she said with a shrug, not sure she wanted Thomas to think of her as broken as she really was. He believed in her, when no one else had. He merely nodded, not pushing. "So how did you know about the silver bullets?" He looked over at her, a gentle smile on his face.

"I've read quite a bit about this," she said, cheeks burning a bit.

"Sounds like you belong here, honey," he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, hand cool against her warm flesh.

* * *

Desiree looked up at the vet's clinic, that familiar feeling of foreboding trickling down her spine like ice water. Her hand lifted to the gouges on her neck as her weight shifted from leg to leg anxiously. _This is ridiculous_, she lectured herself meekly. She could trust the Doctor. But yet…something about the way he looked at her. Like he knew something she didn't. It made her sick to her core.

"Alright," she nodded firmly. It wasn't even as if that Scott one was here to mock her this early on a Saturday morning. There was only the green car she had seen beside the jeep. The doorhandle was warm to the touch as she entered. Although she had expected it, she winced as the dogs yelped and barked their obnoxious recognition of her entrance.

"Desiree!" The doctor appeared at the counter in an instant. She looked between him and the bell on the door.

"With dogs like that, I don't think you need a bell, doc," she said as he lead her back towards the examination room.

"That seems to be a special treatment for you, Desiree," he smiled warmly as he unlocked a cabinet. "But, as promised, your medication," he brandished an all too familiar orange container, filled with the black pills.

"Thanks," she slid them in her jacket pocket, jumping up on the examining table.

"Yes?" He asked, as if expecting her to ask something, somehow aware of the confusing jumble in her mind.

"You know a lot, doc," she said palms resting on the cool metal of the table as she leaned back. "Will I ever get better?" She asked, head tilted as she did so.

"Some cases have been treated. Others have remained terminal. There are even those who appear to have been treated, but it returns later. It is all dependent on how the condition is attained," he watched her, as if waiting for her to understand what he was referring to, but all she could do was fight to keep a straight face that masked her growing confusion and frustration.

"Is Scott's terminal?" She asked, straightening up with interest.

"I believe so, yes," he nodded. "Scott obtained his a little under a year ago. I do believe you were born with this condition, meaning the concept of treatment is vastly different from his case-" He froze as the dogs began the vicious cycle of howling, this time panicked and frenzied.

"What is it?" She asked, jumping off of the table.

"Desiree, I need you to go and stand around that corner-" the bell chimed and she looked about, unsure why her heart was racing as it did. "Go!" He mouthed silently before turning around. She obeyed, the cool metal of the gun touching her ankle in her boot causing shivers to rack her body.

"Deaton!" A deep voice growled, one that made Desiree more than shudder, eyes clenched shut.

"May I help you?" The calm, steady voice of the doctor startled her, but did nothing to calm her nerves as her heart thundered inside of her head. What was this? She wasn't sure what about the situation screamed danger. Run. Fight or flight.

"What is this I hear about a new Hunter?" Something slammed.

"A family took in a foster kid. Nothing more," the doctor said in that calm, uniform way of his.

"Why do I not believe you?" The man barked roughly. Desiree inhaled sharply and she could feel both men tense. She pressed herself against the wall, back rigid as she held her breath, hand clamped over her mouth.

"Derek-"

"You're treating him. Why?" The man, Derek, demanded.

"He merely had a prescription-"

"For _what?_" The venomous tone in the man's voice rivaled that of her own that she had spent so many years perfecting. The perfect tool to keep people out. He did not wait for an answer before suddenly there were more smashing and crashing noises resounding in the small clinic. "You're giving those to him, when I have three new betas with a full moon coming?"

"Derek, you chose to turn each and every one of those betas. I cannot aid you in choice you have made, I can only advise you-"

"Is that him?!" He asked abruptly and Desiree clenched her eyes shut, only for them to fly open to find hands grabbing her jacket. The smack of her head against the examining table rang as loudly as the metal as she found herself staring up at a dark haired, brooding man. An enormous man. She grabbed his hands, nails digging into his flesh.

"Would you let go?!" She hissed, leg lashing out, a perfect kick landing in his stomach. He winced slightly, releasing her jacket as she rolled off the table, yanking the gun out of her boot. "Now, please kindly keep your hands off of me," she said, breath heavy as she aimed the gun.

"Desiree, this is Derek," the doctor said in that ridiculously calm way of his that truly blew her mind.

"Why do I care?" She snapped, refusing to take her eyes off of the man, his silvery eyes piercing hers.

"He was born with the condition you have…only he never had the advantages you had-"

"Advantages?" She asked incredulously, perhaps a little more emotionally than she had planned.

"The medication you have-"

"He was talking about betas. He's one of them, isn't he?" She asked, and all was silent, even the howling hounds.

"She doesn't know?" The low voice brought her attention back to the man, hands tightening around the gun.

"No, Derek-"

"I have to go," he said abruptly, barreling past both of them, shoving past her. She slammed into the wall and he stopped, staring at her, face stony and unemotional. Still, something stormy flickered wildly in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but merely continued walking, the door banging shut behind them.

"You're not telling me something," she said, gun hanging in her palm at her side.

"It's all rather complicated-" They both looked up as the bell rang again.

"I don't think I've ever seen Derek so angry," Scott called from the front room. "What happened? Did-" He froze as he entered, eyes landing on Desiree. "Oh," he said, as if that answered all of the questions in the world.

"Scott, take the day off. Take Desiree home-"

"I don't need anybody's help," she snapped shoving the gun back into her boot. She straightened, eyes of daggers directed at the doctor, but they only lasted so long before she felt something hot burning in the back of her eyes. "Shit," she whispered, the first tear rolling down her cheek. Her face burned in humiliation, unsure what it was about her that affected people so. She attempted to swallow the burning lump to no avail before looking around one last time and bolting out the door, ignoring them as they called her name over and over.

Maybe she was the only one who didn't know who she was.


	6. Chapter 6

"Desiree!" She ignored Scott's voice as her feet pounded against the pavement, carrying her off to the only place she knew around here; the woods. What little of the town she saw as she sped through was blurred by the hot, stinging tears, foreign on her face, yet incapable of being stopped. They continued to rain down her cheeks, the drops as they hit her collarbone almost as audible to her adrenaline pumped body as her feet on the pavement.

But the steady sound of feet on the pavement vanished soon, and she only heard _crunch. Crunch. Crunch, _but still she did not stop, traveling further into the forest, beyond thinking. Beyond feeling. She just wanted to be here. And then, as quickly as she took off running, she stopped. She stared at the ground, as if somehow the answer to her freak behavior was buried beneath the dying autumn leaves, but no answer came. It was because she was broken. She lifted a hand up to swipe at her pitiful tears before she felt a warm hand catch hers.

"Desiree," Scott said, but he wasn't angry, as she would have expected him to be. Looking back on it, she drew a gun on someone in public. She cringed at the thought, barely registering that Scott had kept up with her ridiculous speed.

"I'm-" She opened her mouth to begin one of her smart-ass comments, but nothing came out. Her shoulders fell as she looked up at Scott. "I'm sorry," was all she choked out, and he shook his head.

"Don't be," he insisted, slowly releasing the grip on her wrist, as if afraid she might at any time rip his face off. Although only moments earlier, she might have shot him if she had felt the impulse to. She couldn't blame him.

"But I am!" She insisted, pressing her hot palms to her eyes, as if somehow she could cram the humiliation of the watery tears back in. Act like this had never happened. Like she didn't appear as broken as she was.

"This is normal, Desiree. You know this," he insisted in a gentle voice. "Our condition, it messes with our emotions, and our hormones don't make it much better," he laughed and despite her pitiful self, she choked out a laugh, allowing her hands to drop away from her face.

"I can't mess up here," she breathed, one arm running up her other arm, realizing that she was, indeed, cold, a feeling she was rather unfamiliar with. Without a word Scott sat against a tree, gesturing for her to do the same. She hesitated, the nauseating guilt swirling inside of her at the kindness he was showing despite who she was. What she was. But in the end, she sat beside him, incapable of looking at him. "It never mattered before, whether I staid or left…There was always another home, and more often than not, I preferred it that way…" Her voice trailed off as she picked up a crisp, crimson leaf, twirling the fragile stem in her fingers. "But….I don't want to leave here. They like me," she whispered, the last words ringing with disbelief, as if saying them made her realize how truly rare that was.

"I can't really say I know what it feels like to have no family," Scott began, and she bit down on her lip, remembering that this was another person she was sharing feelings with. Someone she was letting inside. Someone who would judge her, incapable of understanding. "But I do know what it feels like when you find that parental approval that you never had. It's a scary thought, the idea of losing it after you get it," he shook his head, as if reminiscing in his own mind.

"It is," she could still feel the gun in her hand, more than ready to prove she could do it. She could help them. She could be the best, if only it meant they would call her "honey".

"But the situation with Derek-" He stopped to look at her as she inhaled sharply, bracing herself for whatever might come next. She was sure she had faced it before. Shunning. Police. "Don't let it get to you," he said, leaning up against the trunk, eyes lifted to the autumn dyed canopy above them. Hazy fall light fell in splotches on the leaf littered floor, illuminating the crimson leaf in her hand, looking almost as if it glowed a ruby red.

"I don't care what he thinks about me," she snapped defensively, which only elicited a laugh from Scott which made her grit her teeth.

"And I would hope you don't. No one gets his approval, and no one wants it," he rested his head back against the rough trunk, eyes drifting slowly closed. "Don't let him tell you who you are, Desiree," his tone grew serious, but his eyes remained closed. "Don't let anyone tell you," he opened his eyes, gaze flickering to her, holding her eyes for a moment, as if trying to convey some deeper meaning in the way he usually did.

"Am I…" She hesitated, debating on whether she wanted to put herself out for him to judge. But then again, who else seemed to be as honest as he was? Almost as if he understood what was happening with the war raging inside of her, plunging her into the darkness. Almost. She cleared her throat, deciding she wouldn't sound weak while asking. "Am I really the kind of person that scares people like that? Terrifies them? Brings out pure…hatred?" Her goal at sounding strong faded quickly as she spoke, shivers running through her as she remembered the feeling radiating off of that man, whose eyes still burned every time she closed her own.

"No," he turned around, giving her his full attention. "Desiree," he grabbed her shoulder, ensuring she was forced to look up in his eyes, peeling her eyes away from the glowing crimson of the leaf. "You are the opposite. There is something about you, something that did scare Derek, because he's never seen it before," he paused, as if at war inside of his mind, thinking about what to say next. "You radiate this sense of power, but it's more than that," he squinted his eyes, as if trying to figure it out. And then…he sniffed. She lifted an eyebrow, staring at him.

"Are you smelling me?!" She asked incredulously and he winced, as if remembering something. "Never mind," she held up her hand when he opened his mouth. "I'll chalk it up to the condition," she smirked and he laughed.

"You'd be right to do so," he grinned. "But whatever it is, something in you touched something in Derek, and _that_ is what scares him. Maybe it's someone so much like him-"

"He's a wolf," she said matter of factly, assuming he knew about their existence. Wouldn't that be the major conflict between him and Alison. A Hunter and some casual person, weak and shielded from the darkness. Ignorant. "I may be broken, but I'm not that broken," she said, crushing the crimson leaf between her fingers as it fell to shreds, lost on the autumn floor. Scott remained quiet for what seemed an eternity, staring at where the leaf had fallen.

"There's another pack coming, Desiree," he said abruptly, lifting his eyes. "And they're not at a truce with the Hunters, or with any of the Wolves here," he stood up in a swift motion. "It's going to make you question a lot about you. Don't decide what you are when you don't know. But you are not broken," he said, offering his hand down to her. She took it, warm in hers as he pulled her to her feet.

"Why does it matter if another pack is here?" She asked, brushing the blend of leaves from her pants.

"Because, you made a splash," he said.

And then Desiree lost her heart somewhere in her boots among the crushed leaves as he walked away.

* * *

"This is a simple enough task," the tickle of Thomas' breath on her ear was amplified with the blindfold plunging her world into darkness. She could feel his hands on her shoulders as they walked, the satisfying crunch of leaves echoing even louder in her ears.

"This is like in the army," she nodded.

"Exactly," she could hear him beaming and a smile tugged at the edge of her lips. "You'll be timed on how long it will take for you to get your bearings and make your way home. Seems easy, but the forest at night can play tricks on you," he tapped her forehead. "Be careful," he whispered, alerting her that whoever else had been walking with them was still there.

"How long do I wait to take off the blindfold?" She asked, nodding ever so slightly to signal she heard him. Not that she was worried. She was probably the scariest thing out there. The thought made her caramel lips twitch once more, unsure whether to be amused or horrified how true the statement might be.

"Five minutes," he said and she nodded.

"What exactly does this test?" She asked before his hands left her shoulders, wanting to keep the presence there for as long as she could.

"It's a tracking exercise. You'll have to depend on following trails, seeing as you're so far in and new to the forest, it'll be near impossible to go off of instincts," Mr. Argent answered for him somewhere around her. Towards her left? Yes.

"Good luck," Thomas squeezed her shoulders and she opened her mouth to make a smart comment about how luck wasn't needed, but her voice failed as soon as his lips touched her forehead. And suddenly she was cold, ice running through her veins.

She struggled to remember. Five minutes. One…Two…Three…Did that just happen? Had she imagined it? Was that what fatherly love felt like? Where was she…One…Two…Three...Couldn't be love. She was unlovable. Even Ms. Gracie said so…One…Two…Three…

"Fuck this," she hissed, yanking off her blindfold, the fabric ripping at her harsh grasp. The shreds fell to the ground, and she found herself in the pure darkness. To the left…She knelt down, pulling the gun from her boot, although she doubted there would be any reason to need it, yet, something told her that she needed to feel it in her hand.

Silence. Eerie, dead, silence. She paused in her walking, a crunch echoing distantly in the woods. Only now she knew things like this weren't her imagination. She took a few more steps, focusing on her breath, steadying her heart so she could listen. There it was, almost in perfect synchronation, that other crunch. She stopped again, only this time, it kept going.

"Shit," she whispered, but turned around. The crunches grew louder, bouncing off of the naked and peeling trees, coming from somewhere….She closed her eyes, tilting her head to the side. From her right. She turned to the right, cocking the gun as she aimed it, moving behind a tree. It was probably a jogger. It sounded like one, especially as it gained speed. Jogging. Running.

A howl, the sound resounding deep in some part of her she hadn't felt before, chills erupting through her. Still, all she could do was…smile. So this was it. This was where she got to prove herself. Running. Sprinting. She watched the dark, the growling vibrating deep in her bones.

Bang. The spark of the bullet flashed momentarily, illuminating the beast-like face of something that looked human, hair lining the face, sharp, bloodstained teeth aimed straight for her neck. And just as soon, the glowing-eyed woman fell to the ground, a howl of pain erupting from her on the ground, fading into a human shriek, cut off in a gurgling noise.

The clouds floated across the sky, thin spindles of pale moonlight illuminating the girl as she lay on the ground, blood blending in with the dulled colours of the autumn floor, gasping for breath, staring at Desiree. She hesitated, looking at the wound that she would say was just an inch away from the heart, before looking back at the girl, kneeling beside her.

"Why?" Desiree asked.

"I…I couldn't resist," she coughed, before the last glowing of her eyes faded to black. Desiree straightened, unsure why she couldn't feel that pride she had expected. She had done what she had been told to. She did what they would love her for. She did something _right_, but still, something about watching the glowing fade left her with some rock in her stomach.

"I can't mess up," she said to herself, down on a knee, reaching her hand out to close the girl's eyes, some surge of electricity running through her arm, her heart stopping for what felt like an eternity, almost as if she was looking at one of her friends. But she didn't have any of those. She couldn't know what this felt like. She hovered there, the girls skin ice beneath her burning fingers.

"Haley!" The cry of pain didn't reach her ears, resounding in her head as she felt the smash of her knees on the ground, hands clutching her curls, as if yanking her hair might lessen the volume, the feel of pain drowning out whatever dreadful howl had made that sound. Some lonely, heart-wrenching screech.

"Shit," she recognized the sound vaguely. A lone wolf. As soon as the thought passed her mind, the moon was gone, the howl filling the forest around her. She stood, no longer sure she would triumph over this, having taken away the world of this animal.

The thoughts were brief, lightning flickers, barely noticible in her mind, all other thoughts consumed on listening. Running. Breathing. Dodging. She hadn't missed it as whatever it was had launched at a tree that had almost been her by a hair, the shredding of bark and that painful howl that made her want to curl up on the ground and cry. If she could outrun it, she would be home-

Home. The word threw her enough to where the next thing she felt was claws shredding down her back, a cry of pain erupting from her mouth, but not from the warm blood she felt trickling along her flesh. No. The sobs this beast let out as it threw her to the ground.

"I warned her," he choked, voice a low, throaty, choked up growl, canines larger and bloodier than the last. "But you," his nails buried into her shoulders, knee in her sternum, warm breath stinging her nose, smelling of rotting flesh, and still, all she could think of was that pain in her chest, almost to the point where she thought she would rip apart.

"I did what I had to-"

"NO!" The dreadful sound ended in a howl as the beast threw his head back, the moonlight falling on his tear-filled face. "You. That scent. That aura. _I _could barely resist. What thing could?" The beast was talking to itself, eyes wide with what she was sure insanity. She'd seen it too often before, those who couldn't handle the system. Didn't know why their parents wouldn't want them. Why their world had vanished. "You!" He repeated again in that animal bark, burning eyes flashing back to her. "Whatever it is about you-" He stopped, hand tightening around her throat, claws digging into her flesh as she yelped, the sting of the claws bringing tears to her eyes, an image of bloody faces pressing against her eyelids, fires surrounding her.

"Please," she wasn't sure who she was pleading with, whoever could stop the screaming. "Please!" She insisted, opening her eyes.

"You smell so good," he growled, his face almost near consumed in the rough fur, voice almost in comprehensible.

"Get off of me!" She hissed, finally capable of hearing her thoughts over her pounding heartbeat. She lifted her arm, backhanding the wolf, which toppled to the side, drool practically running down his teeth and chin. She barely had time to catch her breath, ragged and loud, let alone think about how much adrenaline she had that had allowed her to do that.

"One taste couldn't hurt…You're no better than us," he was on his feet in an instant, her back against the shredded bark of a tree. His face buried deep in her neck, the teeth poking at her flesh, breath bringing tears of disgust to her eyes. "Arrogant alpha-" he moaned. "Time an omega put you into your place-

"Jesus!" She gasped, clutching her chest as a black blur swept past her, the wolf screeching in pain. She clasped a hand to her mouth, a slant of moonlight illuminating the last of the scene as an enormous black wolf ripped the throat from the beast. She stood still, holding her breath, eyes scanning for how far away her gun was, but it was too late. The wolf slowly turned it's big head towards her, blood dripping in thick rubies to the leaf covered ground, staining them crimson.

She held the silver gaze, frozen, incapable of processing her thoughts. The wolf stalked towards her, rising to its hind legs, and she clenched her eyes shut, this scene walking straight out of her nightmares, hot tears stinging her face. She could hear hot breath on her face, the tears flowing harder before a burning hand pressed her shoulder against a tree. She opened her eyes to see those moon silver eyes piercing her.

"You," she whispered. He said nothing, but she felt the trembles in his hand as he shook, eyes dark and stormy, jaw rigid- His eyes closed, still shaking as he leant in, face against her neck, her own body shaking as she heard him inhale just as the other one had. "Derek," she managed shakily and he snapped away, still silent, eyes staring at her, that fear flickering in his glowing eyes. He stepped back, eyes still watching her, as if expecting her to kill him. Why didn't she? She had just seen him kill someone- He spun away, stalking out of the moonlight and into the shadows before stopping.

"Don't let that happen again. I won't save you," he said huskily before the darkness swallowed him whole.

And then she was alone on that crimson stained forest floor.


	7. Chapter 7

Desiree lifted a hand, about to ring the doorbell before the door swung open, Jessica rushing out. "Oh my goodness!" She said, clasping Desiree's bloody face in her cool hands. "What happened to you?!" She asked and Desiree lazily lifted her dry eyes up to her, weary and bloodshot from tears. She wasn't sure she could speak, cheeks tight with dried tears and blood. Jessica ushered her in, setting her on the plush sofa that threatened to swallow her whole, blankets of all different rich fabrics dripped over her bleeding back.

"Desiree!" Thomas came down the stairs, two men and Mr. Argent behind him, but Thomas barreling down, coming towards her. She held up a hand, causing all to take a step back, watching her with wide, terrified eyes. She took a deep breath before opening her own eyes.

"I found my way home," she said at last and they all stared at her incredulously, the two barely recognizable men gaping.

"That you did," Mr. Argent nodded. Desiree returned the curt nod, standing shakily, her head spinning before regaining her balance.

"You have to at least tell us what happened, Desiree," Thomas insisted as she began her wobbling walk towards the stairs. She looked slowly at all of them.

"Werewolves," she shrugged. "Two of them. Called themselves omegas," she reached a hand up, wiping at a stray trickle of blood that began it's sticky trail down her forehead. She looked down at the blood smear on her hand, barely recognizable from the scratches, mud, and other blood stains. After a shrug she looked back up at them. "What's an omega?"

"A lone wolf without a pack," Mr. Argent answered offhandedly, eyebrows furrowed. "You said there were two?" He stepped forward, sounding more concerned about his question. She nodded.

"Mates, I would think by the way one acted when I gunned down the other," she spoke with an alarmingly casual voice that chilled her. How easily could she slip back into her emotionless self? She had almost thought that she was this emotionless and icy. But she wasn't. She had seen that out there in the woods. Those emotions and feelings scared her more than anything she had seen, although she would never admit to it. She liked to think of herself as brave, someone never scared. Only one thing scared her…it was herself.

"So they aren't with the pack," Thomas said, bringing her out of her mental thoughts, working as slow as her body at the moment.

"No," Desiree answered for the rest of the group. "Unless they were a pack-"

"All wolves feel that way," Mr. Argent interrupted her thought. "Even if they hadn't have been mates, there's a kinminship between those animals. Watching one of their own die is like killing a part of them, hence why they live in packs," he moved around the group, sitting back on the sofa. "Now the fact you killed a mate, and then survived the wrath of the other is quite a feat," his gaze traveled towards the window, the moon hanging low and near full in the sky. "Especially with their power building…" He said cryptically.

"Quite a feat?" Thomas asked, almost sounding indignant as he spoke. "It's pure perfection," he gently took the blankets from around her shoulders.

"Let's go get you a shower," Jessica said quietly, ushering her towards the stairs, but she didn't miss the looks she got as she passed by. Pure admiration. She kept her gaze on the stairs, forcing her feet to continue up despite her body screaming at her.

"Merry Christmas, doc," Desiree bounced into the clinic, as if she still hadn't hesitated outside the door. Even though she was sure there was nothing in there worse than what she had seen and felt last night, the phantom feeling of suspicion and warning had consumed her.

"Wow, why in such a good mood?" Dr. Deaton looked nothing short of amazed as she handed him a cup of coffee.

"You seem like a guy who likes his coffee," she shrugged, jumping up on the table, still cold to the touch. He gave a small smile, as if what she did reminded him of a private joke of his. She tossed one leg over the other, pretending not to notice as she took a large swig of her pop. "So Scott is a minute late," she capped the pop, setting it beside her as she leaned back on her arms, looking around.

"Indeed," he laughed, placing the last of needles away before taking a sip of the coffee. "You seem to be here more than him," he raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for her to draw a conclusion from that.

"Not like I have anywhere else to go, and my house is crawling with that flowery thing-Wolfsbane?" She asked, half-interested in the name, pretending not to care about the beginning of the sentence. It was true. She had yet to spend a day inside of her house, but it wasn't because of those flowers. What happened if she said something wrong? Did something wrong? Made it so they didn't want her anymore?

"Wolfsbane," he nodded, but it was as if he saw through her conversation change. "How did you get here, Desiree?" He asked, looking somewhat concerned.

"I walked," she shrugged it off again. "So what's up with all the Wolfsbane? Is it a fashion statement?" She doubted he would know, but if wiped that look off of his face, she didn't care.

"Wolfsbane is indeed an odd choice for a decoration in the home, but perhaps it's the folklore behind it-Scott," he turned around as the bell chimed, Scott jogging in.

"Five minutes late," Desiree grinned as he threw something at her.

"Can you go lock up my bike?" He panted slightly, and she got the message. Leave. She nodded, sliding off of the table and beginning her way out, but she paused at the sound of her name. "What happened to Desiree?" He asked in what she assumed was a whisper.

"Nothing that I know of, why?" The doctor was much easier to hear.

"Alison said the Hunters went out to go clean up some omegas she took out…and they were gone. Nothing but blood. And Derek didn't do anything with them," he sounded…worried. Something was out there with the bodies of Werewolves. Even Desiree knew that had to bad, especially when it wasn't a Werewolf or the Hunters. Her fingerprints were all over them. And her gun. She had left it out there. She groaned. She had to fix this…

"She hunted a wolf? On her own?"

"Yes," there it was. True fear. She fumbled to finish locking the bike to an unused bike rack, fingers clumsily shutting the lock. Before she knew it, she was running, something she found herself doing a lot.

He was right. Nothing but blood. The dried blood stained the leaves a solid crimson on the forest floor, visible in the autumn morning light. She kicked at them, but nothing was beneath. No gun. No body. She fell to her knees, hands sweeping underneath the leaves, pulling them out of her way, growing more frenzied the further away she got-"

Shoes. Worn converse shoes. Her gaze roamed up the person as she sat back on her ankles, looking up at the man, face shielded by sunglasses.

"You're quite some shot," he said in a low, honey-smooth voice. It took her a moment to register the olive hand he had extended to her. She looked at him, ignoring it as she rose to her own feet.

"I don't know what you mean," she said icily, rubbing her hands off on her jeans.

"So this isn't yours," he whipped out the silver pistol, glinting in the hazy light.

"Actually, it is-" She lunged for it but he slid it back into the back into the inside of his jacket.

"You know, it takes a bullet to the heart to kill a Werewolf. They heal otherwise," he took a step forward, voice echoing in her head. She took a quick step back, maintaining the distance between them. "What was that?" He asked, raising up his sunglasses to reveal honey golden eyes watching her with…confusion.

"You stepped forward. I stepped back," she said firmly and his eyebrows knitted in confusion before his sunglasses slid back over his eyes.

"I see. No trust?" He asked, although they both clearly knew the answer.

"Would you trust someone who knows all about you and you do not even know their name?" She matched his tone, already knowing the answer. She stepped back again as he took a step forward before she realized his hand held out to her.

"I would not," he flashed a sparkling grin. "I'm Hunter," his hand remained between them, but she could tell he was watching her beneath those sunglasses.

"Desiree," she said at last, giving in as she shook his warm hand. His grin only brightened as he lifted his sunglasses up, resting them in his dark hair.

"Well, Desiree, I have to say, I'm impressed," his eyes glittered like his grin as he watched her and she folded her arms self-consciously. "Two omegas. Of course the bodies had to be taken care of-"

"The Hunters could have done it," she said hotly, perhaps too quickly.

"And let them see the giant wolf teeth that ripped his throat out? Yes, you shot the girl fair and square, quite beautifully too, but how would the Hunters like you teaming up with some wolf? Especially one like Derek Hale?" He matched her stance, folding his arms casually and leaning his shoulder against a tree. "I'm looking out for you, love," he flashed her a wink.

"I don't need to be taken care of," she straightened at the patronizing term. "So what do you gain out of this?" She pressed suspiciously.

"I get to finally meet the infamous Desiree," he grinned and she knew there was something else meant by that. It seemed that way with everything here, where everyone knew more about her than she knew about herself.

"Who are you?" She stepped forward, as did he, which shocked her. Almost as if he had expected it.

"Call me a family friend," he reached into his jacket, brandishing the gun. He tossed it to her, landing coolly in her hands as she clutched to it.

"I don't have a family," she couldn't help but sound relieved. Finally, something he didn't know about her. Something she could have for herself.

"You had to come from somewhere. Didn't you?" He shrugged as if he was referring to the weather, rather than the family she had known nothing about. Absolutely nothing.

"So they say," she tried to act as if it didn't faze her, knot her stomach into a million tiny knots and send it sinking to the bloody ground.

"Even animals have families, Desiree. What makes it so hard for you to believe you have one?" The sound of her name in his voice chilled her, the way he spoke so gently. No commands. No yelling. She stepped back, her back against the tree she had found herself against last night.

For an instant, she could see those silver eyes watching her, staring at her. They saw right into her. And they were scared. He hadn't been in control. She bit down on her lip, heart seizing at the memory of sharp teeth against her neck, chills running down her spine-

"Mine didn't want me," she said at last, pulling herself from the flashback, her nose filling with the surprisingly sweet scent that had been Derek. "So as far as I'm concerned, I have none that you could be a friend of," she was surprisingly harsh, voice filled with ice.

"How about just a friend?" Hunter looked at her, eyes softening in a way that made her want to vomit all over the ground. Friend.

"We'll see," she managed at last, hoping none of the inner war was portrayed on her face, although she doubted it was. Perhaps she had spent too much time with Ms. Gracie. She seemed to suffer the same fate Grace did…forgetting whether or not she was wearing a mask.

"Let me walk you back to the clinic," Hunter insisted, sliding his glasses back over his face. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she nodded.

"Only to the clinic," she agreed and there it was again. The dazzling smile that rang somewhere deep in her memories, but she couldn't put a finger on.

"You really don't have to," Desiree insisted as Hunter fished into his pocket for his wallet, handing her a mountain of ice-cream. He seemed almost normal for someone who knew about the Supernatural. Their conversation had been almost exclusive to school. Sports. TV-shows. Normal people things that felt like they had been a lifetime away, although it hadn't even been a week.

"It's the last ice-cream eating day of the year, love," he winked at the patronizing name and gave a laugh at the face she made. "Of course I have to," he paid the man and they continued along the side-walk.

"So where are the bodies, if I may ask?" She asked, taking a lick from the mountain of ice-cream which she doubted she could finish. She'd never seen so much in one place, and it already looked like she might explode at the thought of finishing it.

"Safely hidden where no one will find any trace back to you," he assured her, placing his sunglasses back over his eyes, as if he couldn't decide if it was too sunny or not.

"Why the need to look out for me?" She asked, somewhat angrily. "Everyone else seems perfectly content to kill me or exile me," the last part was bitter, directed more to herself than to anyone. Whatever scent it was she had, she couldn't even begin to stomach the thought of how many others would find their way towards her.

"It's exactly that, love," he tossed an arm casually around her shoulder. "I'm one of those peaceful types. This whole truce you have between the Hunters and the Wolves, it's a beautiful thing," he sighed half-dreamily as they walked. "OF course, it seems a bit tense and all, but the concept of no one biting anyone or shooting anyone-" he paused, as if in his own little world before flashing one of those movie-star grins. "Everyone ought to take a lesson from that," he continued walking, continuing to lean on her as he reached over, stealing a bite of the ice-cream.

"So…what are you?" She asked hesitantly, unsure if that question was a faux-pas, but he merely laughed at her ignorance, causing a flush of heat to reach her cheeks, unsure if she should be embarrassed or angry.

"I'm a little bit of everything, you could say," he froze as they approached the clinic, raising his sunglasses as he squinted at the doorway. He took a step back, eyes narrowing as he slid his sunglasses back down. "This is where we part ways," he stepped back once again, releasing her shoulders.

"Is everything alright-"

"Don't go making too many messes," he said quickly before he turned away, half-running back into the crowds of people on the side-walks. She looked up at the door, the familiar queasiness filling her with something similar to dread, but she merely shook her head, pushing into the clinic.

Whatever calm sensation that Hunter had brought on with normality quickly evaporated as she walked in.

"Desiree!" Scott jumped up from a chair in the waiting-room as soon as he saw her and she winced at the sudden movement. "Where were you?" He clutched her shoulders, eyes wide with some sort of panic.

"I went to go get ice-cream," she lied, taking a deliberate lick from her ice-cream which was near gone. His grip loosened slightly as he nodded.

"Right, Dr. Deaton needs your help with something," his mind was obviously still not convinced she had been getting ice-cream, and she was more than glad to change the topic.

"What's up, doc?" She barely had time to ask the question before she locked eyes with those familiar silvery ones, chills erupting over her. "Why is he here?!" She demanded, throwing her ice-cream into the bin in nothing short of frustration.

"We all need to calm down here," Dr. Deaton said calmly, palms resting on the center examining table as he looked around at all three of them. "Derek here says the first of this pack has entered Beacon Hills, and the full moon is tonight," he began, pausing as if to ask for questions. She bit down on her lip, folding her arms in what she hoped appeared as a solid stance. Still, it was obvious no one was watching the doctor. She could feel the cold eyes burning into her, and it took all of her strength to keep her gaze on the table.

"I can't play guard-dog tonight. I have three new betas on my hands-"

"No one needs you to play guard-dog," she snapped suddenly, eyes flaming angrily as she locked gazes with him. "So go play fetch. We'll handle it-"

"That's just it, Desiree," the doctor said in a voice that had some warning in it. Stay calm. She trembled slightly, leaning up against the farthest wall as she nodded, showing she was calm. "The Hunters are not allowed to harm any creature unless it has attacked someone. Now, whatever wars between the creatures leaves them without jurisdiction. This pack has no intention of hunting any innocent bystander," his gaze drifted around all three of them.

"They want several things," Scott continued for the doctor. "Derek's new pack is a threat to them. Derek has gone unchallenged as an alpha since he has become one, and they want to change that," he paused, eyes flickering over to Desiree. "Now this was something they would have waited for, planned it out. But now that Desiree is here…" He looked at the doctor, as if he would have some reason for what her presence did to ruin everyone's life. A question no one had been able to answer for seventeen long years.

"Desiree is a game-changer," he answered in that cryptic way of his. "And something in your past, be it your previous family or your condition, ties you to this pack," his voice grew solemn, almost terrifying. She barely recognized the pressure as she bit down on her lip until the shocking taste of copper filled her mouth.

"I see…" Was all she could say, fingers rising up to the claw marks on her neck.

"Derek, we need you to stay with Desiree…you're the strongest one around. They'll be going after the omegas first," the doctor looked up at Scott and she saw some worry in his eyes. "She has the best chance with you-"

"I don't need protecting," she straightened up, face burning with anger as she did so. No one said anything, as if they all knew something, something they all wanted to say. She took a deep breath, but it had no effect. She looked back over at Derek, that rush of something like terror and anger flooding through her at the sight. His expression more than perfectly imitated what she felt inside. They all looked between them, as if waiting for one to speak or attack.

"Would you at least help me with my pack?" The words were forced and shaking as he managed to swallow his pride. They all looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to go along with whatever obvious charade was being used to humor her pride.

"Yes," she spat, wishing she were dead instead.


	8. Chapter 8

Desiree's footsteps bounced in the dark cavernous space around her, the rough railroads beneath her feet as she walked, following whatever distant light she saw far ahead. She gritted her teeth with every step, unsure who could manage to live in an abandoned subway of their own free will. Of course, she'd staid in almost every possible run-down public utility in her early teens. Teenage years never went over well with foster kids, and runaways were found left and right. To this day Desiree wasn't sure if she was lucky or unlucky she had been given someone as stubborn as Ms. Gracie to drag her back by her tangled hair, sometimes literally.

Still, she walked on, vague memories of another abandoned subway flickering in her mind, still unsure why she had agreed to this. What help could she be to a pack? Especially those who had _chosen_ the life of filthy animals. She shook her head. She didn't know what this burning hate was that she felt at the very thought of those animals. All she knew of them was the teeth. The glowing eyes. The hungry howls. Things that haunted her nightmares. It wasn't as if the Hunters hadn't explained to her that the wolves were not the only demon beasts in the shadows. But they were indeed her demons.

She threw the last of her pop away, echoing somewhere in the seemingly eternal tunnel behind her that she had been walking down in near perfect darkness. The dim, flashing lights of the platform grew closer, flickering with years of disuse. She took a deep breath before hoisting herself up onto the cold platform, swinging both legs up. She stood, brushing at the dirt on her pants.

"Who the fuck is that?" She glanced up to see an all leather clad slut staring at her with disgust.

"That's the new Hunter," Derek appeared from out of the crashed subway, windows shattered and covered with dust and grime. She scowled, folding her arms over her chest.

"Why is there a Hunter here?" A lanky boy with curly hair leaned up against the tilted subway, looking much like a miniature Derek in an old leather jacket and scowl on his long face.

"Doing what Hunters do best," she said firmly, pushing past the girl, making sure she smashed against her as she did so. "So how does this work?" She asked Derek, careful to avoid looking at him as she surveyed the platform, built into something like an obstacle course, sharp metal objects on almost every surface. She picked up a giant blade, covered in rust. "This can't be sanitary," she murmured, letting it drop back down.

"It's pretty routine. We chain them up before the moon rises," he paused, looking at the sky through the holes in the building. "Five minutes-" He reached into a trunk, tossing a rusted crown of spikes to her. "This is Erica's," he said, bending down again as she surveyed the blood-stained spikes. Her gaze flickered towards the female, and she could only smirk as the seemingly tough one paled at the sight of it.

"You know Derek, I think I see why you find this so fun," she swung it around on the chain. Derek's brooding look intensified as he glowered at her.

"This isn't fun," he growled and she could only grin, his eyes reflecting how she felt every time she had to look at him. She raised an eyebrow, hearing someone behind her. She tilted her head back, the lanky boy hovering behind her, eyes glowing.

"What special treatment does that one get?" She asked, stepping away from him, but his eyes followed her, sending shivers through her.

"He gets handcuffs. He's on top of that though-" Desiree could barely register everything that happened, be it the snarl of the beast behind her, or the blood-thirsty bark of Derek as he launched over her. Something in her screamed to hit the floor, rolling out of the way as Derek smashed the lanky one to the ground, no longer looking like a lanky teen as he gnashed his long, animal teeth.

"What's wrong with him?" The girl clasped her hands to her mouth, watching as the two men slammed each other into the floor, releasing sounds of pain and something all too like hunger. "What the hell did you do?" She spun around on Desiree as soon as she stood, eyes wide, already glowing like the other.

"I did nothing," she said calmly, but it only seemed to piss her off further as she lunged for Desiree. "I did nothing!" She insisted as her back met the cold floor, but just as the lanky one, she was gone. Desiree gritted her teeth, foot meeting the sternum of the wolf-girl, sending her sprawling backwards. The creature barely had any time to react before she slammed her against the subway, trembling under the impact.

"What are you doing?" She didn't recognize the voice as she drew a fist back.

"Apparently these people are supposed to be protecting me," Desiree called back, letting her fist collide with the girl's face. The beast let out a howl as Desiree shook out her fist, knuckles aching as the girl slid to the ground, clutching her face, eyes dimming.

"What the Hell was that for?" She was spun around to face an enormous dark man-like child.

"Hey!" Derek appeared between them, throwing the man-like child back. "What is wrong with all of you?" He growled, all three of the beasts cowering around them. He turned his smoldering glare back on Desiree. "Help me chain them up and stop pissing them off," he shoved the spiked crown into her hands.

"Gladly," she matched his venomous tone as she unlatched the back of it. The girl looked as if she might be ill, clutching the dark man-boy's hands as she stood. Without a word they all filed into the subway, tilted haphazardly. She took in the cracked, shattered and bloody surfaces, a make-shift bed on the far end that she assumed belonged to Derek.

"Bitch," Erica hissed as Desiree hooked the other side of the chain to a pole, leaning back into the large man-boy.

"You know it," Desiree responded, latching it shut behind her head. She watched as Erica braced herself, obviously ready for the worst. "Are you sure this is how you do this?" She wasn't sure why she was hesitating at the look of pain on the dark one's face.

"She can handle it," Derek said and she heard the other one howl in pain as metal clicked.

"Just make it quick," the blonde girl panted and Desiree nodded, twisting it sharply. An ear-splitting shriek racked them, everyone paling at the sound. Tears ran down the dark one's cheeks. Desiree was unsure why she felt like she might lose her dinner, but the feeling was there. She shook her head, closing her eyes as she gave two more sharp turns before Erica collapsed on her knees, blood streaming down her face.

"Why is Isaac chained?" The dark one asked, still holding the blonde one, although he was no longer restraining her.

"Something is off tonight," Derek said. "Boyd, let Erica go. You have a minute," He moved obediently to another pole, latching an enormous collar around his waist. "Clear out," Derek grabbed her shoulder, pushing her back out onto the platform as he slammed the ancient metal door shut behind him.

"What's off tonight?" She asked, wining slightly as a high-pitched howl erupted through the cavernous space, the subway shaking as it did so.

"You are," he said, the disdain clear in his voice. Desiree felt her fists clench, spinning around.

"What have I ever done to you? Or any of them?" She swiped at the blood on her arm, although it continued leaking. Derek folded his arms, growing as she did, as if he expected her to shrink away.

"It's not fair that you are allowed to walk around all night long. This full moon doesn't rip you open on the inside. No one dreams of spilling your blood. You've never had to hold the dead, dismembered body of your family-"

"You're wrong!" Desiree was nothing short of terrified at the sound of her voice, loud and shaking with hatred. His face, if possible, grew even more stony, glowering down at her. "I woke up to find blood all over me, screams echoing in my head, and the only people I'd ever trusted-"

"Don't pull a pity card you worthless-"

"Shredded to bits around me! And I couldn't stop it! Do you-"

"I came here to find my sister ripped in half-"

"You are one to talk about pulling the pity card-"

"That's big coming from_ you-"_

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?! You don't even-"

"You," her cries of anger were cut short as she gasped, Derek shoving her against a rough, blood-stained concrete pillar. "Listen closely, because I will be the only one to tell you the truth. So don't start with the tears and the anger-"

"Just tell me," she threw his hand from her shoulder, unsure how he could be so arrogant-

"You're just like us. Like me, like my pack, like Scott, like that man that couldn't decide if he was going to rape you or kill you first-"

"I…I c-c-can't be," she shook her head, which spun wildly at his words. Scott? The one who seemed to be the only one to even understand what she felt…He was an animal. A bloodthirsty animal…She shook her head wildly, unsure she could bring herself to stop until the storm of toxic thoughts seized to torment her head, but they did not stop. "I'm….I'm fine!" She insisted, looking up at him, showing her hands. Plain, human, hands.

"So am I," his tone grew angrier as he matched her gesture, holding up his. He dropped his hands, glowering at her with a hatred she felt might knock her off her feet, the air around her so thick she wasn't sure she could breath, let alone move again as she collapsed back, sure she would have fallen if the pillar hadn't have been there. "Those pills you take…that Deaton gave you. They bury the Lycanthropy and all the symptoms, except those you were born with-"

"Born?!" She stared up at him, legs collapsing so her knees smashed against the floor. She caught herself on her hands, unsure which way was up. Born. Her parents. Whoever they were, had been these…these…murderers. Beasts. Demons. She shuddered to think about what force on Earth could have brought them into existence. People who were animals…incapable of compassion. She closed her eyes. Not that she was capable of it herself.

"Born. Like me, and my entire family before they were killed by those Hunters you think care so much about you," he spat, the burning ice of his voice waking her from whatever stupor she was in. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, the howls of the chained beasts resounding deep in her mind, almost as if she could _feel_ them. Like she had felt that bullet in that demon.

When she was sure she could support herself she drew herself up, rising to her feet, wiping at the spare tears on her cheeks.

"Why wouldn't they tell me," she wasn't sure she could lift her gaze to see the pure hate he had for her. What all of this kind inherently had for her. The same thing that had left her without a family-

"They don't feel that you are strong enough," he folded his arms, and she could feel his gaze burning into her. Watching her every move. But what he expected her to do, she was unsure.

"But you don't?" She lifted her head.

"I think you are as strong as they come…And you are headed down a path of destruction," he turned away, placing some of the odd metal contraptions, red with rust and blood, into whatever box of tortures he had, unfazed by the piercing howls filling the cavernous place. Although he put several objects away, it made no difference to the disarray and general lost feeling filling the subway station.

"You act like you know," she followed behind him at a safe distance. He paused, some harness in his hands. He let it drop back down, sitting on a box.

"I know that the Hunters are colder than any wolf," he looked up at her, and she saw a dim colour of crimson echoing in his silver eyes, her stomach crashing to the floor at the sight. But as soon as she saw them, they were gone. He glowered at her, as if the expression were permanently painted on his face, although his eyes weren't filled with the detest. They were else-where. Slowly his head turned up towards the ceiling, the full moon spilling the bright light into the dark place, shedding everything into a silvery dew.

"So if they can't control themselves on the full moon," she shoved him to the side, plopping down next to him on the box, pretending she was unfazed by the idea of being a wolf, although it had yet to sink in. She was an animal. There was something inside of her, something she'd never known of. She had gotten lost in this masquerade. Who was she? "Who looks at the pretty moon with you?" She asked, her thoughts stuffed deep inside her mind, along with everything else. Except for now, with this man who seemed to spark strange emotions of anger and hatred and burning temperaments she had never known existed before.

"The moon isn't pretty," he growled, elbows falling to his knees, head hanging down to look at the grimy floor.

"There's beauty in everything," she insisted, although she wasn't sure where she had heard it. She'd never even thought it. Yet still, somehow, she knew it was true.


	9. Chapter 9

_I apologize that it's taken me this long to post again. I also apologize for the awful quality of this post. I promise you the next will be better when I get back into the swing of things. _

* * *

Howls. The sound that haunted the recesses of her mind every time she shut her eyes. Howls. But somehow, this nightmare was different. She could see. She could see the only light in the old farm house, the milky moonlight spilling in through the giant windows, the night filled with the haunting howls. Only this wasn't like the house she had lived in. It was empty, everything covered in dust, the fields to the back bare of crops. She stood in the wood living room, an icy draft from an unseen source sweeping through the room as she wrapped her arms around herself, as if it could keep her warm.

More howls. Growing closer. She bolted towards the door, but it wouldn't open, no matter how hard she pulled, muscles screaming at her to stop. That it was futile. She looked around, the stormy gray clouds swelling in the sky, masking the moon as she fell into darkness, the wood ice beneath her as she sat, unsure what to do. Where to go. Lost. She was lost. She closed her eyes, somehow lighter than whatever dark place she had been plunged into. It was never the dark that terrified Desiree. It was what was in it-

"Stop," she choked out to whatever was in the dark, but still, she felt like the feeling was closing in on her…crushing her. "Stop!" She screamed out again, eyes flitting open as she gasped for breath, the suffocating sensation consuming her. She saw only the ground moving beneath her, hazy pink light filling the forest.

"You were sleeping," was all Derek said as she looked up to see him, walking ever so casually.

"I can walk," she murmured weakly, half-asleep, unsure if she was really awake.

"You had a long night," was all he said, voice as cold as whatever draft there had been in her sleep.

"The Hunters…they wanted me and Alison to go patrol…"

"Scott covered for you," he replied firmly and she could feel him climbing stairs, the back doors opening, shutting silently behind him.

"I don't think they'll be very happy you're in their home," she wanted to urge herself to stand. Get out of his arms, but he was so warm where she felt frozen to her core.

"I know how to be quiet," he said in that unchanging tone, somehow aware of where her room was, but that was only a passing thought in her mind, eyes begging to shut and let her fall into a blissful sleep.

"Why are you doing this?" She murmured, eyes drifting shut as he set her on the bed.

"You spent a whole night chasing bloodthirsty betas," he sounded like that was supposed to be a joke, or as close to one as Derek could get, but he shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You do that every month," she rolled onto her back so she could get a better look at him, stretching her arms up, finally waking up to the world.

"I didn't exactly make it easy for you. I guess I owed you something…" Oh yeah…she was a wolf. And the icy chills returned, shards of glass running through her. "Plus I've been alone every full moon since my sister," he added, staring out the window as the last of the moon dipped behind the woods, the sky melding into vibrant pinks and reds, spreading like warm butter through the sky.

"You didn't tell me a lot about your sister," she sat up, looking at him. His head snapped around, as if realizing where he was, waking out of a hazy stupor.

"Just because you helped me doesn't mean we're friends," he stood up, crossing to the door.

"Because you're still someone I'll have to kill," she said pointedly, unsure why it felt as if he had just slapped her out of the blue. Or why it hurt her pride the way it did.

"As are you," he said cryptically, glancing back over his shoulder at her.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She struggled to keep her voice down, keep the panic clear of her voice.

"Ask that new alpha friend of yours," he growled and left. She glanced out the window and moments later a black wolf was bounding across the yard, vanishing into the dark shadows of the forest, leaving her with that feeling of dread.

Of course, she couldn't expect much more from a beast. Or herself.

* * *

"Good morning," Jessica called cheerfully as Desiree trudged down the stairs, doing her best not to plop too forcefully down into the chair. She was unsure why she was able to keep her mind working or her eyes working, but by some miracle, she could.

"Where is everyone?" She asked, looking at the empty chairs, wondering if she was supposed to still be out there, acting as if she had spent the whole night patrolling the west side while she was sure her "partner" had been having her own fun that had nothing to do with patrolling.

"They don't normally manage to rise until the moon comes up again," she flashed that brilliant, model smile as she stirred some sweet smelling batter.

"So I can still be in bed?" She asked, but somehow she knew she couldn't sleep.

'You could be," she nodded. "But you're a lot stronger than those two boys," she laughed in a laugh that sounded like chimes. Desiree looked around the large kitchen, cavernous and beautiful…filled with objects. She rested her hands on the table, as if to ensure that it was really there, that she wasn't in some hollow place.

"So I've heard," she mused to herself, looking at the pancakes that Jessica laid on her plate, light and ridiculously fluffy. She poked at them with her fork.

"So how was patrol?" Jessica sat across from her, although she ate nothing. Desiree stopped her poking to look up, unsure what the right answer was. So instead, she ate a perhaps too large bite of pancakes, tasting of sweet honey and maple syrup to buy her time. But she didn't need it as Jessica placed her hands on her cheeks. "I do realize Alison may not be the best to guide you…I hope there weren't any problems?" She asked.

"Oh no," Desiree shook her head, perhaps too emphatically. "She is super talented," she said quickly.

"Oh, there is no doubt about it. Alison is one of the most gifted we've seen in quite some time, but it's her loyalties…" There it was. It wasn't her that Jessica had been trying to analyze. "But you…" she reached over, grasping her hand in her cool one. "You have a spirit they hope will rub off on her. A true sense of right and wrong…" She squeezed her hand and Desiree felt her stomach plummet. She opened her mouth to brush it off, but Jessica beat her to it. "I've always wanted a daughter."

Ice. Ice water trickled down the spine of her back, every hair on her being standing, as if alerting her to a potential danger. She wasn't sure what to say, let alone where her voice had hidden itself. But the moment was gone when something smashed upstairs and Roger came tumbling down the stairs. Jessica turned her head as Roger toppled unceremoniously down the stairs, rolling pertly into the kitchen. Following in hot pursuit was Thomas, careless of the son he had knocked into a heap. He gave a mighty pounce, propelling himself over Roger and into the kitchen with unbelievable strength.

"Did you really knock my child down the stairs?" Jessica asked, but she could only beam in pride at the somewhat deadly antics unfolding before them.

"Sure did. He was the one who actually fell," Thomas laughed, grabbing a berry and popping it in his mouth. He kissed Jessica, "Good morning, loves," he leaned over, as if to kiss Desiree's forehead, who tensed. In the next instant he was on the ground, Roger rolling back and jumping up to his feet, proud of the sweeping kick that had downed his superior. He slammed forcefully into the chair he had tried to take.

"That one was a good one," Jessica, nodded her approval, and Roger beamed. Desiree reached down, offering her hand to Thomas, although she was sure someone with his capabilities wouldn't need it. Still, he humored her, taking her hand and hoisting himself to his feet.

"Thanks," he smiled softly at her, looking as if she had made him exceptionally proud, only by offering her hand. She felt her face flush hot, realizing someone was _proud _of her. Maybe she was wrong. She wasn't too keen on reading people, and it seemed impossible someone could look as if they actually cared about her. "Alright, I need a report you two," he knocked Roger from the chair at the head of the table, and he obediently hopped to the next one.

"Report?" Desiree coughed on the juice, wondering where the west city boundary was, let alone what had tried to cross last night.

"North side was quiet," Roger didn't bother to swallow the mouthful of pancakes to blurt his answer.

"A few of the others realized that they'll be migrating from the west," Jessica, stood, taking the empty plates to the sink. "They're advanced though, they'll send a scout before they send anyone else."

"Desiree?" Thomas pressed, and she realized they were all watching her expectantly.

"I-" Before she could even stutter, the doorbell chimed out merrily, and Jessica shot to her feet.

"Be right back," she called as cheerfully as the ring, but she didn't need to open the door for Desiree to sense who was standing on the other side.

"Is Desiree home?" Hunter asked in a tone so pleasant and casual any parent would have fainted at the mild-mannered boy. Desiree dropped her fork, face in her hand. While Hunter had been a neutral entity in her life before, his knowing she was a wolf suddenly put him up as number one on her most hated list. Well, number two, just below Derek.

"Who is that?" Roger's head snapped up, flashing a wolfish grin at Desiree. She didn't need to know him to know how much advantage he would take of the situation at hand.

"Target practice," she said, pushing away from the table before Thomas caught her arm.

"Where are you going?" He asked as she leaned backwards to look at him.

"To shoot that stupid smirk off his face. I can hear it in his voice," she replied and a grin spread across his face, coupled with a look of…relief.

"Go on then. Make sure you take the safety off the gun," he turned back to his pancakes.

"Will do," she called, spinning around the corner and pushing gently past Jessica. "Move," she shoved Hunter back, slamming the door behind her.

"Dizzy!" Hunter grinned, lifting his sunglasses.

"Keep moving," she pushed him again so he stumbled backwards down the stairs, still flashing that picture-esque smile of his, clearly aware of what was making her face so red.

"Ah, pleased to see me as well, I see!" He opened up his arms as if to embrace her. The hug was met with a solid fist to the chest, knocking him further back down the drive-way. "Where will our date take us today?" He asked, as if they had been carrying on a conversation about the weather.

"You know exactly where we're going," she growled, surprised she could manage words through the red that was creeping into her vision. Desiree barely registered the walk through town to the woods, almost as if it hadn't happened. Her hand was pressed forcefully against Hunter's chest, pinning him against a tree. She looked at her own hand, which trembled slightly with the swelling storm inside of her.

"I take it you know," he said in that irritatingly understated way of his. She inhaled deeply, as if it may help calm the shaking. An eternity later she allowed herself to exhale, burying her face in her hands.

"You could have told me, you asshole," she said, voice muffled by the barricade of her hands.

"No, I could not have," he stated matter of factly. She braved a peek out of her world of darkness, looking up at him from over her hands. She didn't need to ask the question before he willingly plunged into the dramatic retelling. "My parents swore me to secrecy, the way yours did to them," he paused, as if gauging her reaction. She bit down on her lip, refusing to let any of her thoughts play across her face. She certainly wasn't going to be giving him the satisfaction. "Look, Dizzy-"

"Don't call me that!" She yanked her hand out of his as she reached for it. There was no time to respond before Hunter froze, head whipping around to focus to the west. A loud thunderous sound filled her ears, shaking her to the core, as if some car was driving by, blasting a bass. This was different. It was steady and pure. The consistent thrum of a heartbeat, growing closer.

"They're coming," Hunter groaned, slamming his forehead on a tree in what seemed to be dramatized anguish. He stayed there, eyes trained stubbornly on the ground in a way that looked a lot like a child stuck in the corner.

"Who is?" The question barely left her mouth before she knew. It was the pack. Her eyes darted up to see a man approaching; hands buried in his jean pockets as he lead the rest. Still, all she could feel was that one heartbeat, pulsing deep inside of her core, as if all of their hearts beat as one. He did not stop, as she thought he would. He kept walking, walking until she thought he might step on her, as if he didn't see her. He stopped as their toes touched, looking down his long nose at her.

"Well if it isn't our little princess," he reached out a hand, icy to the touch as he chucked her under the chin.

"Don't touch her!" Hunter turned around, although it was more of plea than a demand. The man stopped, grasping her chin in his calloused hands, forcing her face to the side. Desiree was speechless, looking up at him out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't place a finger on where she had heard that eerie voice before. It was…chilling. She felt as if even her bones had been set in ice as he drawled out his lazy words, surveying her as if she were an animal. She was an animal. They all were.

"I see she hasn't turn out to be half so scary as we had thought," he released her, shoving her back. She caught her balance, but whatever spell his slimy voice had cast over her had been shaken off.

"And you aren't half as threatening as we thought you would be," she folded her arms indignantly, and she could tell from the look Hunter gave her she had struck a chord. The lazy look in the man's eye hardened, but nothing else gave way. His heart beat with those who stood behind him, looking like a miniature army of a dozen.

"There is no need for us to threaten you. I have seen already that you will simply…roll over," he grinned in a way that looked much more like he was baring his teeth. His teeth were broken in some spots, yellowed in other, as if they had yet to see a toothbrush in years.

"You've stepped into something much bigger than you and your little pack," she surveyed them, and each looked more rabid and unkempt than the last. One looked as if he might be covered in fleas, if she couldn't catch the smell of rotting meat on his breath from here. The scent was rancid enough to kill any small creature.

"Hunter, I applaud your attempt in trying to save your faction of a pack, but you can't expect this little princess to stand up for anything," he shook his head, ruffling Hunter's hair. Hunter drew himself up indignantly, looking a bit less like a child.

"She has the blood right to this pack, she is the alpha-"

"I'm the alpha?" She repeated, mouth going dry.

"We'll have to fix that, then, won't we?" Desiree could barely register what it was that kept that arm from coming down on her.

As she opened her eyes, she winced. In an instant, every beast had been pinned to the ground. The large, dark one from last night had taken out three, holding them down with shear weight. The leather-clad blonde had two by the throat against a tree, fangs bared. The miniature Derek had done the same, two on the ground with claws instead of fingers digging into their throats. Hunter was quick to join in, with one underneath his foot, his throat on the verge of collapsing under the weight. Scott had two, a set of younger twins, by the unkempt hair. What shocked her the most wasn't the Odd One, wielding two guns, pressed against the heads of the remaining two, but Derek shielding her, holding off the slimy man as if it was no effort.

Derek nodded almost imperceptibly, but Desiree saw it. She stepped to the side as Derek flipped the man over his back, smashing him against the ground, still stained with the blood of the omegas.

"Well if it isn't a baby alpha," said the man, unfazed by the ground-shaking attack. Derek's chest heaved, the tension and anger rolling off of him in tangible waves.

"At least I _am_ an Alpha," he growled, almost incomprehensibly. It sounded a lot more like the guttural warning of a starving wolf, hoarding a precious prey.

"I will be soon enough," the man stood up, brushing at the torn clothes he wore.

"Not if we have anything to say about it," Scott was the one to speak now, sounding much more in control than the trembling Derek.

"You're in our territory now, and that girl is under our protection," Derek bared fangs.

"She's an omega…She'll be dead before her first true full moon," the man brushed Derek to the side. Desiree's arm shot out, catching Derek before he could lunge, pulling him back. She could feel the quaking shakes, close to eruption beneath the surface.

"Let the pack go," she said calmly. Everyone turned to her in a mixture of awe and horror. "This is your territory, but they haven't provoked an attack. Don't spill blood for no reason," she squeezed Derek's arm before stepping forward. The slimy man smirked, looking down at her.

"I knew you'd be weak. You'll end up beside your parents soon enough," he chucked her under the chin again before turning away, his pack in close pursuit.

A numb sensation fell over her, as if she couldn't lift a muscle. Everything suddenly became so heavy, as if there were hands grappling for her, pulling her down, hoping to suffocate her against the blood-stained forest floor. All she could feel was Derek's hand on her shoulder.


End file.
